


Lullaby

by anotherwinchesterfangirl



Series: Businessman!Husband!Sam [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Businessman!Husband!Sam AU, F/M, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5976046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherwinchesterfangirl/pseuds/anotherwinchesterfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working his way up the corporate ladder makes for long, rough days at the office. This is how Sam likes to work off the stress. Part of my businessman!husband!Sam AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lullaby

You’re getting ready for bed when you finally hear his key in the front door. You glance at the clock—it’s after 10:00pm. Another late night at the office. You’re worried he’s going to burn himself out. 

You listen to his sounds as you finish your nighttime routine in your en suite bathroom—the jingle of his keys hitting the front table, two thunks against the welcome mat as he kicks off his shoes. You can picture him in your head shrugging out of his suit jacket and loosening his tie, unbuttoning the topmost buttons of his shirt with his slender fingers. You’ve been married less than a year, but you know his habits. The stairs creak as he climbs them two at a time, and his steps are hurried as he crosses the bedroom.

You turn to face him in the doorway, the words “How was your day?” just ready to leave your lips, but before you can speak he’s crowding you back into the bathroom and gripping your face in his hands, his lips crashing into yours, his tongue invading your mouth, staking claim. His nose squishes against yours, and you can’t even breathe—you’re gasping for air by the time he releases your lips to lay burning kisses over your jawline and down your neck and along your collarbone. 

He hooks his fingers under the thin strap of your nightgown and slides it off your shoulder. Your hands are in his hair when you’re finally able to pull in enough air to ask your question. 

“How was your day?” Your voice is breathy and high as he brings his hand down over your breast, brushing his thumb over your nipple until it hardens.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Sam—” 

He cuts you off with another scorching kiss. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want...you.” His mouth is hot and wet, and he’s sucking a hickey onto your pulse point just under your jawbone, that place that makes you lose your mind. 

“Okay,” you almost whimper, your breath catching in your throat when his mouth closes around your nipple, and he sucks hard, flicking with his deft tongue. 

He lifts you onto the counter and leans down over you, drags his nose down your belly and pushes your satin nightgown up around your waist as he lands on his knees on the ceramic tile. Two seconds later, your panties are stripped off and laying on the floor, and the weight of his shoulders presses your thighs apart.

He positions your bare feet up on the counter so your knees are bent nearly up to your shoulders, and he holds you open with his fingers splayed on either thigh. Normally he would start out slow, but not tonight. He covers you with his mouth, alternating between thrusting his tongue up inside and flicking at your clit. He hums in pleasure, like you’re the best meal he’s ever had. Your head hits the mirror as you arch back and moan loudly, and within minutes your thighs are trembling under his hands, your hips bucking against his face. Just when you think you’re going to go crazy with need, he wraps his lips around your clit, flicks his tongue fast, slides two fingers into you, crooking them forward to hit your sweet spot, and you come, screaming and panting. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch your breath before his sticky lips claim your mouth again, and he pulls you to standing on still-shaking legs.

He spins you around and places your palms against the mirror, bending you over the sink, pulling your hips toward his roughly. He slides his fingers through your folds, and, when he’s able to press up into you easily, he undoes the button and fly of his dress pants, shoving them down with one hand. His cock springs free, and he pushes into you immediately and starts thrusting at a dizzying pace. Your fingers curl against the smoothness of the mirror under your hands, desperate for something to hang on to as he pounds into you, your hips bumping the counter again and again. 

You resist the urge to squeeze your eyes shut and give in to your impending orgasm so that you can watch him in the mirror, beautiful as he gets closer and closer to his own release, sweat beading on his forehead and the hollow of his throat, hair wild from where you had your hands fisted in it moments earlier. His breath comes rapid and ragged through parted lips, his tongue pressed against his bottom teeth.

He meets your eyes in the mirror, his stare smoldering with such desire that it sends you over the edge and you’re helpless to stop it. Your hands slip down the mirror, and you lurch forward as Sam gives one last desperate thrust before coming with a shout, digging his fingers into your hips, chest heaving. 

He curls over you, resting his forehead against the back of your head and wrapping both his arms around your waist. He holds you there for a moment before straightening up and pulling out, taking you gently by the shoulders and turning you towards him. He cups your face in his hands and kisses you, tender and slow. When he breaks away, he looks into your eyes, a small, grateful smile twitching at his lips.

He helps you clean up and then leads you to bed. You lay back against your pillow, spent and ready for sleep, and Sam curls up next to you, scooting down so his head is on your belly and his arm is wrapped around your waist, his feet hanging off the bottom edge of the bed. You card your fingers through his hair gently.

“Rough day?”

“That obvious?” He chuckles halfheartedly. 

“Want to talk about it?”

“No, I just want to sleep,” he yawns. “I’ll go in late tomorrow. We can talk in the morning.”

“Okay,” you say, stifling your own yawn. You snuggle into him and close your eyes. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.”


End file.
